For a girl who likes expensive things and opulence, I have always hated the opera. It’s just noise and over dramatic acting for me and I would rather put pins in my eyes than do this on purpose.

I jump slightly as a warm hand slides cheekily into the side split of my dress which comes to hip level when I am seated and it’s pulled up. Fingers curve my skin and squeeze suggestively on my upper thigh, fingertips curling around to graze the lace edge of my underwear and I freeze instinctively, knowing I should not openly react.

I squirm in my seat a little; wholly uncomfortable with the...